


Run

by officialmaknae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Horror, M/M, Murder, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7334176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialmaknae/pseuds/officialmaknae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongdae is all too familiar with himself. He recognizes the fact that he's in control of his own fate. He knows he's got problems. He acknowledges that he likes to kill. A lot. But nobody's perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from AsianFanFics: http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/962308/
> 
> For a dear friend.
> 
> Graphic descriptions ahead of gore!

The blood soaks Jongdae's fingertips as he cuts into the girl's chest, peeling the skin and muscle back to get a good look at her chest cavity. She was still warm - not surprising, as she had been breathing two minutes ago - and it made the pillage through her anatomy slightly uncomfortable. He didn't prefer to cut into fresh bodies, but he was too eager to wait for her to properly clot. Dissecting a cold corpse with his bare hands had to be in Jongdae's top five favorite things to do. He didn't mind harvesting something warm, but it was like eating cake after you had scraped off the icing. Yeah, you could enjoy it, but you just wiped away half of the experience.

Cold bodies were his favorite because the bones and ligaments had hardened, making them more difficult to bend to his will. More times than not, he left his victims with a countless amount of broken bones, but that didn't bother him at all. Part of the satisfaction was hearing the ossein snap and shatter, making chills shoot up his spine and gooseflesh scorch over the back of his neck.

He hit a blood vessel and liquid spurted out at him, landing on his cheek and he tried to get out of the line of fire. He tutted, sighing as he retracted his hands. He stood, looking around his apartment for something to wipe the filth off of him with. Normally, if he had a victim worth taking the time to anatomize, he would love to get their gore and lifeblood all over him, relishing in the frigid extract, but she was only a prostitute, and she, unquestionably, was not worth dirtying his face.

So why would he murder someone he wasn't going to enjoy dichotomizing?

Jongdae had a twisted perception of what he liked to call 'fun'. Playing cards? Occasionally. Trying new flavors of coffee at the café down the street? You bet. Holding off his perverted desires until he was nearly shaking with anticipation? Incomparably so.

This happened to be one of those times, which also explained why he wasn't waiting for her to stiffen before he, quite literally, dove in. He regularly aimed for people that he was acquaintanced with to erase from the light of day. They were the perfect people to aim for; they trusted him enough to slip away with him, but he wasn't attached to them to the point where it wasn't gratifying. Yet on this occurrence, his ardor had gotten the best of him. While he had been walking around the city in search of someone, doing things from hopping bars to hanging around parks, he couldn't pass up the perfect opportunity of a prostitute sidling up to him with the promise of a good time with little charge. He had been waiting a month. An entire month of repressing his urges, biting his tongue, resisting the need to invite one of his co-workers out for a drink.

You could tell how long it had been since he last killed. He became increasingly charming the more stretched he became. Once, when he had bridled the strength to force himself to wait for six months, his lure had become so beguiling that he managed to get a free meal at his favorite five-star restaurant. The hostess had said it was for him being a "loyal, dependable customer," but Jongdae wasn't dumb. He was quite aware of the capability of his charisma, and it frightened him sometimes. But that only added to the thrill.

 

Jongdae reached over to shut off his alarm, the incessant blaring making annoyance bubble in his chest. As he wiped his eyes, he winced, the skin of his face coming into contact with a dried substance on his hands. With a grimace, he realized that he hadn't washed his hands after he had finished. He also noticed, with a bit of discontent, that he didn't change out of his clothes from yesterday before he had crashed on his bed, either. He was used to waking up to this sight; when he got too excited, his memory tended to get a bit shoddy. It didn't, however, make it any more pleasant. Especially knowing that this was the contents of a  _prostitute_.

Shit, he must have  _really_  been desperate.

He sat up, lifting himself off of his bed and walking into the bathroom. Ignoring the body discarded in the bathtub, organs spread around it like decorations, he decided to get a full cleanse instead of strictly paying attention to his hands. He stripped, leaving his clothes in a careful pile by his laundry basket. It was starting to fill up; he needed to wash his clothes soon. He started the water, testing the temperature with his fingers before turning on the shower head and stepping inside. He scrubbed himself to the point he was sure there wasn't a speck of old skin left on him until he let himself get out. That was another thing about Jongdae: he had two moods. He either wanted to be spotlessly clean or absolutely filthy. There was no in-between.

He dressed slowly, knowing that his boss wouldn't yell at him if he was late, seeing as he was the boss. Jongdae was a successful businessman, co-founder of a large company that made essential parts for televisions. It wasn't anything stimulating, but Jongdae guessed that he already had enough excitement in his life, and when his annual income borderlined seven digits, he was thoroughly content with his profession.

He arrived at the office building shortly after eight, nodding in way towards the lady sitting behind the main desk.

"Good morning, Mister Kim!" She called, flushing at the acknowledgment. Jongdae normally told her good morning as well, and he knew she had to look into it, but he would never lower himself as to actually speaking to her. Her department was so prostrate that he wasn't even aware she was hired until he walked in one day, and she was there. But Jongdae was a gentleman, so she was always given some sort of greeting, even if he didn't know her name and she put on too much perfume for his taste.

He took the elevator up to the top floor, and when the doors opened, he was instantly bombarded with his agenda for the day as it left the hands of one of his other workers and came into his possession. He scanned it with a bored expression, already knowing what it would hold, and sure enough, it was almost nothing but back-to-back meetings. However, something caught his eye.

_3:30 - Job interview_

"Kyungsoo, what's this?" He asked, pulling the overseer aside.

"Oh," Kyungsoo replied, his eyes widening as he read it. "I thought you knew. There's a boy coming by to be interviewed for the position of your secretary."

"Interviewed by me?"

"Well, of course, Sir," Kyungsoo said. "It's _your_ secretary."

He sighed, but a hint of interest peaked in his chest. "You're right. Sorry, that was a dumb question, wasn't it?"

"A bit," he laughed. "Shame you have to find a new one. I rather liked Yixing."

Jongdae smiled loftily as he thought of Yixing's chest splayed open in his living room, his lovely heart in his hands, ghosts of movement still fluttering through it.

"As did I."

 

 

His eyes were glued to the clock above the slideshow presentation, as if taunting the hands to move faster. Ordinarily, Jongdae loved sitting in rooms of people - he liked to watch them, memorize their movements, gauge whether they were the nervous type or not - but meetings were nothing short of self-torture. He was easily twenty years younger than the youngest man in here, and the only thing keeping him sane was the vibration of a pulse in the speaker's neck. There was only five minutes until he had to interview his potential secretary. He could wait five more minutes.

 _Could he_?

Yes, of course he could. He just needed to find something to focus on. Maybe the way the man seated next to him kept re-tightening his tie, the sweat on his palms leaving slight dark prints on his slacks as he wiped them. Was being seated next to Jongdae affecting him that much? If it was, he wouldn't be surprised. He basically owned everyone in the room, and that thought - the thought of complete power - made him sit up and listen to the rest of the exhibit with a renewed vigor.

Was that the appeal of taking someone's life to him? The position of power it put him in? Jongdae had to admit, when he held someone's fate in his hands, he felt like God. In those moments as he watched fear soak through his victim's eyes, a feeling unlike any other seeped into his veins. Was that the key to all of this? It couldn't be, because Jongdae had the capability to be one of the most influential men in the world, but he didn't look for that.

When the time rolled around, everyone stood, shaking hands and having small talk about what they had just seen. Jongdae excused himself, making his way back towards his office, and when he walked in, he noticed that the boy to be interviewed was already there, sitting in a chair in front of his desk.

He jumped when Jongdae walked through the door, nearly dropping his papers, but managing to catch them. He stood up, looking at the floor.

"O-Oh, Mister Kim," he said, but it didn't register to Jongdae.

He had been expecting someone interesting, but the boy in front of him was something he hadn't been quite accustomed to seeing walk into an office.

He was slenderly built - the perfect balance between muscle and body fat, a rare find - and his face itself was something to admire. His features were well-rounded, even his mouth was small and somewhat pouty. His skin was on the fair side, and to say there had ever been a blemish on it had to be blasphemy. He looked up to make eye contact, his blonde hair blending well with the tones of his face. He was slightly taller than Jongdae, but he didn't mind.

In fact, Jongdae's thoughts were so disrupted by him that he seemed to forget that he had killed someone last night. His urge came back with a vengeance, and he swore he had never wanted to see the entrails of someone so badly. He wanted to feel the texture of his skin on his tongue. He wanted to taste the tang of his blood. He wanted _every bit_ of this boy to himself, and he was acutely aware of it.

"Mister Kim?" He asked, his uncertain voice bringing Jongdae back from his critical observation, and for the first time, he noticed the boy had the smallest hint of a lisp.

 _Cute_.

"Yes," he flashed a charming smile, watching as the male in front of him seemed to gasp as he did so. He reached out to shake the boy's hand. He grasped it, and Jongdae wanted to moan at how soft his flesh was. It was almost erotic. "What's your name?" He asked instead, removing the coat of his suit and taking his seat.

"Sehun," came the reply, as he sat back down. "Oh Sehun."

"Sehun," Jongdae tested, as if tasting the name to see if it left a pleasant flavor in his mouth. "How old are you, Sehun? You look so young."

"I get that a lot," he said, looking down at the sheets of paper in his lap, but Jongdae saw the light pink hue that had taken home in his cheeks. "I'm eighteen, Sir. I'll be nineteen next month."

"Can I see your paperwork?" He inquired, holding out his hand. He had to exert an effort to keep it from shaking.

Sehun nodded, sliding the small packet into his waiting hand. He looked through it, trying to get a grasp on the boy in front of him.

Sehun had graduated from an elite high school with perfect marks and was now attending a local college in Seoul for the arts. He was in his freshman year and his grades so far were as flawless as those he had earned in high school. His letters of recommendation came from small-town business owners, saying that Sehun was a joy to have as an employee, and Jongdae believed it.

"Hm, smart boy," he murmured in approval as he handed the papers back to Sehun. Sehun flushed as he stammered out a word of thanks. "Are you living on the campus of your college?"

"No," he shook his head. "I have a small apartment located about a mile away from it. It's nothing extravagant, and rent is cheap, so it works. For now."

"'For now'?" Jongdae repeated, leaning over his desk to get a better look at him. "Do you have plans for a large future?"

Sehun nodded shyly, and Jongdae watched the nervous movement of his slim fingers tracing the outline of his papers. "I paint, and it's dumb to think something like this, but I hope to become a well-known artist."

"What do you like to paint?"

The response was immediate. "Anything. I gather inspiration from everything, and when I have enough, I throw it together. Some of my works come out to be a bit disastrous, but I like them."

His voice had lightened up a considerable amount, showing that they were on a topic he was more comfortable with. Jongdae liked the less tense posture his lips held when he was more relaxed; it made them look more inviting. Not like they needed help in that area to begin with. Jongdae already wanted to bite them hard enough to make them bleed.

"It's good to have that sort of confidence about your work," he assured Sehun, who only smiled in response. "So, I read from your papers that you aren't originally from Seoul. It must have been a bit odd to move to such a large city."

"It was, yes," he agreed. "My hometown isn't far from here, though, maybe an hour's drive, so I know Seoul very well. Even though I miss my parents, it's a bit nice to have some freedom. I'm not sure how I feel about having bills to handle on my own, though." His nose wrinkled up in distaste. "I could do without those."

"Suppose having a job would help with those, wouldn't it?" Jongdae asked, and Sehun reluctantly nodded his head. "I guess you're leaving me with no other choice than to hire you."

Sehun's eyes widened. "Really? But you barely asked me any questions."

"You're going to be my personal secretary, Sehun. I feel that as long as we get along well, you're as competent as you need to be." Jongdae smiled, keeping his desirability on sky-rocketing levels. He wanted Sehun to like him. He _needed_ to.

He didn't know what he would do if he didn't.

 

Having Sehun as a secretary was more draining than Jongdae had originally planned. He was invariably keeping his inner instabability at bay, telling himself that the time would come when he would have Sehun's body in his hands, his to freely mold and contort and do what he wished. The thought of that made his mouth water, his body absolutely screaming in want at the idea of having his blood smeared over his skin, his cold corpse rubbing against his own warm flesh. Another part, a part he had never had any protest from before, didn't want to harm Sehun.

Instead, it wanted Sehun as a partner. It wanted Sehun there with him while he coaxed people into his apartment to never be seen again. It wanted to see Sehun's innocent face, vibrant and full of youth, turn into an unforgiving mask of insanity. He longed for a part of Sehun to want to be with him, to want to help him in his fucked up path of life. That worried him a bit. He'd never craved human attention before, not like this. Jongdae had never longed for interaction with his own mother, let alone some schoolboy.

His hope for Sehun to become his accomplice seemed like a possibility rather than a dream when he Googled his artwork. Sehun hadn't publicly shown a lot of his work, but the ones he had were beautiful. The use of color and balance was breathtakingly perfect, and the subject of the art was almost always something of the macabre. He seemed fond of painting people without eyes; in their place, there were gaping, bloody holes. It gave Jongdae chills.

His turmoil made it hard to approach Sehun, and during the following week of his employment, Jongdae was finding reasons to stay in his office, sated to just sit in his chair and watch Sehun file paperwork for him. He had the perfect view of him from his office, and he thought that maybe something else had made its way onto his list of favorite things to do.

On the downside, his death rate had escalated dramatically. This week alone, three people had been killed, and as Jongdae tore into them, he fought between picturing Sehun beside him or in the place of the person he was desecrating. This frustration only lead him to murder other people. It was a never-ending cycle, and Jongdae wasn't sure what it was about Sehun that made him feel like he was losing his mind. It drove him away and pulled him in at the same time.

How did he do that?

 

Jongdae knew it was over the day a boy walked Sehun into the office building. He had been watching for him, of course, coming in earlier than normal so that he could make sure Sehun made it in alright. Normally, he was alone, but today, he had company.

Jongdae's eyes narrowed at the taller figure walking next to him, their hands nearly brushing, until they made it inside and he couldn't lay his eyes on them. He sat down in his chair so that he wouldn't use the elevator to go down to the bottom floor and make sure that the boy never laid eyes on Sehun again. Or anything, for that matter.

_Of course, he has a boyfriend._

The image didn't sit well with him. It didn't sit well with him at all. He bit his knuckle, his mind racing. He'd never seen a picture of him on Sehun's desk, and it was decorated in memorabilia. Was he someone recent? How long had they been together? Did he treat him well? Did Sehun love him?

He felt like he was going to vomit, which was a first considering he liked to tear apart the intestines of people to see what they had eaten for dinner.

When Sehun made it up to the top floor, he walked straight to his desk, flipping on the light and shrugging off his pea coat to reveal the nice collared shirt he was wearing, Jongdae watching him the entire time. Sehun grabbed something off of his desk and made his way into his boss's office, laying it in front of him.

"Here's the analysis you asked for, Mister Kim," he said, giving him a sweet smile. Jongdae wondered if he smiled at his boyfriend the same way. Sehun noticed the way he was looking at him, so different than the usual warm glow he had in his eye. "Are you alright, Sir?"

Jongdae bit his lip. "Yes, of course. Tell me, who walked you into the building this morning? I don't recall meeting him."

"Oh," Sehun blushed, seeming embarrassed. "He's just a guy from my college. He keeps asking me out, even though I've told him I don't have time for a relationship right now."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows. "He should respect your boundaries."

"I don't mind," Sehun shrugged. "It's nice to have that sort of attention. I'm sure you understand, Mister Kim."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you seem very committed to your career, Sir," he started. "Even so, knowing you might be too busy to have a relationship, it must be nice to have people show you attention."

"Not particularly," Jongdae said. "People here find me more intimidating rather than worth showing that kind of attention."

"I'm sure that's not true," Sehun told him. "You just need to be more open."

"Would you like me to be more open, Sehun?" He asked, eyes smoldering. In his head, thoughts of him strangling Sehun entered his mind. Visions of beating his head against a mirror until he was unconscious took the place of what he was seeing.

"Yes," he admitted, shifting his weight nervously.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the analysis. I'm sure you did a great job, like always."

"Yes, Sir," he nodded, going back to sit at his desk, but Jongdae's voice halted him.

"Sehun, since you're an art student, I'm sure you've heard of the exhibit coming to town."

Sehun turned back to face him, his eyes alight. "Oh, yes! It's all my professors can talk about."

"Would you like to go?"

The offer hung in the air as Jongdae watched the cogs in Sehun's head turn. Tickets for the event weren't cheap - staggering to a few hundred American dollars per person - but it was expected of something that was going to have renowned works of art. The  _Mona Lisa_ and the  _Scream_ were among the most mentioned. Jongdae was hoping he wasn't going to decline. He wanted to see Sehun outside of the workplace, but if that was to make a move on him or to make  _the_  move on him, he wasn't sure.

"I would love to, of course, but the money..." He trailed off, looking bashful.

"Let me pay for it," Jongdae offered. "Consider it a welcome gift."

Sehun chewed on his lip, thinking. "I - Oh, you're being so unfair, Mister Kim!" He burst, his voice aloft with laughter. "You know I'm not going to turn this down."

"That's what I'm counting on," he smiled. "So, is that a yes?"

"Yes," he nodded, a grin making its way onto his face.

 

That Saturday evening, Jongdae made his way to Sehun's apartment. He already knew where he lived - perks of being someone's boss - but he asked for the information anyway to make it seem a bit more personal. The stairwell was rickety and the building had the vibe that nothing but college kids lived in it. He wouldn't be surprised if that was true.

He found Sehun's door, lifting his hand and knocking. He heard Sehun call out, "One second!"

He brushed nonexistent dirt off of his shirt, preening the black material to lay correctly over his chest. His heart was pounding.  _Why_? What kind of power did Sehun hold that made Jongdae feel somewhat...human? Was this the way other people felt in this situation?

The door opened and the vision of Sehun greeted Jongdae's eyes, and he once again was awestruck by the beauty of him. He looked nice. His hair, which was normally slicked back in a professional manner, seemed to be without product tonight. When Jongdae met his eyes, Sehun looked away, blushing. Was he wearing eyeliner?

"Hey," Jongdae breathed. "Are you ready?"

Jongdae felt like he should be asking himself that question, but Sehun nodded, stepping out of his apartment and locking the door behind them. Together, they walked down the steps and back outside to where Jongdae had parked his car. He felt a bit smug when Sehun took a double take at it, but he also didn't want Sehun to think he was showing off. The car ride was silent, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Sehun seemed to be perfectly satisfied watching the buildings pass by as Jongdae drove. Within ten minutes, they had arrived at the museum. There wasn't a lot of people - maybe a crowd around fifty - but those that were present undoubtedly came from money. The women had large jewels wrapped around their necks; the men wore heavy rings. Jongdae never understood the pleasure from showing off your wealth.

As he handed the man at the front door their tickets, Sehun bowed his head. "Thank you, Mister Kim. I don't think I ever properly told you how much this means to me. You're very kind for doing such a thing."

Jongdae smiled, pleased from the praise. He guided Sehun by the small of his back into the large gallery. Besides a handshake or a brush of the arms, this was the first contact they had really had. "It's nothing. And Sehun, you should call me Jongdae. Please. Mister Kim makes me feel like my father."

"Of course, Jongdae," Sehun corrected. "That feels a bit weird."

"What does?"

"Calling my boss by his name," he laughed.

Jongdae followed Sehun as he stood in awe of the paintings around them. When Sehun would comment on them, he listened attentively, trying to figure out exactly what Sehun looked for in a piece of artwork. Though Jongdae had never been one to be exceptionally intrigued by portraits, but as he watched Sehun's face light up every time they moved on to a new picture, he decided he could get used to it. Sehun viewed the pieces like they were something to be treasured, and Jongdae noticed he kept clenching his fists by his sides. Was he so in love with the masterpieces that he had to physically resist touching them? Fight back the urge to reach out and slide his fingers along the surface?

Overall, Jongdae was satisfied with giving Sehun something that the boy was thoroughly enjoying. An hour after they arrived, and after Sehun decided that he had soaked in the beauty of it all, they left the building. Jongdae drove him back to his apartment, but this time, Sehun's mouth didn't stop moving. He seemed to reenact the entire experience, explaining to Jongdae  _why_  each piece was so unique and irreplaceable. He talked about the rich variety of colors that he had just been exposed to, his hands moving aimlessly in front of him as he described the paintings. Jongdae didn't mind. He liked the confidence art gave Sehun. His words were sure and steady, his voice fearless.

Jongdae walked him back to his apartment, and before he turned to leave, Sehun asked him if he would like to come inside.

Jongdae blinked; he knew he shouldn't, he had been feeling the build-up of tension in his chest the whole time he had been next to Sehun. He didn't know how long he could hold it off.  _Did_  he want to hold it off?

But instead of turning him down, Jongdae nodded.

Sehun's apartment was exactly like Jongdae had pictured it. A small kitchen was the first thing to greet him, spotlessly clean and orderly. It looked a lot like Sehun's desk at work. There was never a sheet of paper out of place, and the countertops also reflected that, everything seeming to be in a position where it balanced out. The next room was the living room. It consisted of a comfy-looking couch, but the rest was mainly taken up by an easel and blank canvases. The current work sitting on the easel was covered by a sheet, which made Jongdae frown a bit. Off to the left was what looked like a room, but the door was only cracked, so Jongdae couldn't tell if it was a bedroom or a bathroom. Another door lead off to the right, but it was also closed.

"Sorry, it's really small, I know," he apologized, looking a bit uncomfortably.

"No," Jongdae shook his head. "It's nice. Cozy."

"Do you want something to drink?" He asked, starting towards the refrigerator.

"No, thank you," Jongdae said.  _I only have a taste for your blood_.

"Make yourself at home," Sehun told him, gesturing for Jongdae to walk into the sitting room.

He did so, taking a seat on the couch. It was as comfy as it looked, forming around his body like it wanted to pull him in. However, his eyes didn't stray from the covered canvas. Sehun noticed as he followed him into the room and he walked towards it. His fingers brushed against the sheet.

"Do you want to see it?"

Jongdae looked up at him. "I won't ask to look at it if you don't want me to."

"No, it's alright," he shook his head, pulling down the sheet. It floated to the floor and Jongdae's breathing quickened.

It wasn't complete, a quarter of it missing color and some shading, but it was obvious to the eye that it was a mangled corpse. Its internal organs were spread around its neck like jewelry, cheeks split open into a Cheshire grin. Sehun's favorite characteristic of his paintings was also present: the eyes had been plucked out, hanging from the sockets by the optic nerve.

"Oh, God," Jongdae muttered. "Sehun..."

"You think it's awful, don't you?" His face fell and he went to cover it back up, but Jongdae stood and blocked him from doing so.

"No, don't do that," he said firmly. "It's... _Wow_..."

He walked forward and ran his hands along the paint, the rough edges scraping against his palms. He closed his eyes, picturing what it would feel like if the canvas was made out of flesh and the paint, the blood of a victim. It sent delicious chills through him and he shuddered.

"Your artwork is incredibly lifelike," he said. "It's almost like seeing the real thing."

"Seeing the real thing?" He repeated, squinting at him. "You talk like you  _have_  seen the real thing."

He didn't say anything, only moving the sheet out of the way so that he could sit in the stool in front of the easel. He shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall, and reached out for Sehun's hand. He pressed it against his face, and he knew he was slipping into the dark. Maybe he should have left when he could.

He moved the palm of his hand towards his mouth, kissing the fleshy part of it. Sehun's eyes widened.

"J-Jongdae, what..?" He started to ask, but Jongdae's eyes met his and his mouth closed.

"The thing about all of this, Sehun, is that I  _have_  seen the real thing. I  _crave_  the real thing."

Sehun's hand was shaking in his grasp, and he bit down on the area he had previously been kissing. He increased the pressure of the bite until he felt the skin give; the sweet tang he had dreamt about since the moment he had first laid his eyes on Sehun brushed against his tongue, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Sehun whimpered, his head turning away. Images of Sehun laid out in front of him, cold and ready to be dissected, danced through his head, and for the first time, he felt revolted.

"Oh. fuck," he gasped, puling his mouth away from Sehun's palm. He could taste his blood, and it was so sweet, so promising, so  _pure_ , but he didn't want to hurt him. He stood, grabbing his coat off the floor and stumbling backwards as he tried to get as much distance from him and Sehun as possible. Blood was still smeared over his lips, and he fought the urge to use his tongue to wipe it away. "I-I have to go."

Jongdae left as quickly as he came.

 

He didn't know how he was going to face Sehun on Monday. How was he going to look him in the eyes and be calm when he had nearly lost himself? Did Sehun hate him?

He called in sick instead, determined not to to put himself in that position, even though he knew he was going to have to own up to it eventually. Was he supposed to act like it had never happened? Of course not, Sehun wouldn't let something like that slide. Would he?

Around seven that night, he got a phone call from the front desk.

"Hello?"

" _Ah, Mister Kim, I have a boy down here requesting to see you. He claims he's your secretary._ "

_Fuck._

"Really?" He asked, his voice sounding a bit off to his own ears, but it must have been his imagination because the receptionist didn't pick up on it.

" _Yes, a Mister Oh Sehun_."

"Yes, he's telling the truth. You can send him up."

He hung up, his hands shaking. The hunger welled up in him again, his mouth watering as he remembered what Sehun tasted like.

 _No,_  he scolded himself.  _You don't want to hurt Sehun._

But didn't he? Had he not thought about how beautiful the younger boy would look with his teeth pulled out, gums bloody? Or how he would love to hear Sehun's sweet voice shoot through octaves of pain as he skinned him alive?

His thoughts were disrupted by a sharp rapping on the door. Jongdae swallowed, clenching and unclenching his fists as he opened the door.

Sehun smiled at him, a bit shy. He lifted his hand and waved. Jongdae's eyes immediately latched onto the fading mark from his teeth. Part of him wanted to freshen it, the other part wanted to cry. "Hi, Jongdae. Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, stepping aside and pulling the door wider so the boy could walk inside.

"Your apartment's bigger than mine," he noted as Jongdae closed the door.

"Just a bit," he smiled.

Sehun walked around his living room, taking in photos and books he had lined along shelves. The photos were mainly him at work parties, and Sehun titled his head in confusion. He then surveyed the walls, looking at Jongdae's taste in artwork, before sitting down on his couch. He had a bag around his shoulder and he set it by his feet. Jongdae followed him, standing awkwardly by the other end of the couch.

"How have you been?" He asked, watching Sehun as he moved his hair from professional to casual with a few strokes of his hand.

"Good," he smiled. "Really good. I recently had my eyes opened to something."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I want to be made into a piece of art, and, doing that, make the most beautiful artwork anyone's ever seen." Sehun rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his thin, pale forearms. He reached down into his bag, pulling out a large, white quilt. He laid it across the floor, making sure it was flat. When he was finished, he sat down on it with his legs crossed. Jongdae watched him carefully.

"What?" He asked, taking a step back.

"I want you to bite me again, Jongdae," he said, looking him in the face. "You want to, too, I can tell. You can do whatever you want to me." His voice became soft, and he got on his hands and knees, crawling towards the edge of the blanket nearest his boss. "Please, Jongdae. You don't get someone this willing that often. I know you don't."

Sehun was pleading with the side of Jongdae that already wanted to tear him limb from limb. His lips were parted so temptingly, his neck was exposed and he could see the pulse racing through skin. Oh, God, what was this boy doing to him?

"Sehun, please leave." His voice was a bit shaky, and he cleared his throat. "You should be running. I am an awful human being. My tastes are completely fucked."

"I don't care," he insisted, reaching out for Jongdae's hand. "Jongdae, please mutilate me. Make me bleed with your teeth. Make me pretty."

Jongdae knelt down on his knees in front of him, pushing aside a strand of Sehun's soft hair. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

His mouth attacked Sehun's neck, his tongue tracing the bones that protruded from the skin. He could taste him, but it wasn't as strong. He knew to get what he really wanted, he would have to break his skin. But he didn't want to do that. Not yet, anyhow. First, he wanted to see how desperate he could get the boy before he cracked. So far, he felt like he was doing a good job. Sehun's hands had wound into his curly hair, pulling his head into his throat with more force. He scraped his teeth against the flesh, and Sehun gasped, his breathing stuttering in his chest. 

His hands were all over Sehun's back, silently admiring the slim build of him. His hands slowly slipped down, cupping Sehun's ass and pressing him further into him. Sehun groaned, his legs parting as Jongdae forced them apart to press one of his own between them. He pressed his thigh against Sehun's crotch, creating friction as his mouth made a path to his collarbones. Sehun's heart rate hate sped up, Jongdae could feel it throbbing against his skin, begging him to let it gush out onto his tongue.

"Jong-Jongdae, please," Sehun urged.

Jongdae hummed in indulgence, allowing his jaw to clamp down on his fragile neck. Sehun moaned, arching his back against him. Jongdae lapped at the fresh wound, the constant flow of liquid making the corners of his vision focus unnaturally, his sense of sight sharpening. He pulled away, sliding his lips up Sehun's neck. A trail of red was left, smeared exquisitely onto his body. Jongdae shoved Sehun back, causing him to lose his balance and land flat on the quilt. He corrected the stance of his legs, parting them slightly as if to tempt Jongdae.

He removed Sehun's shoes first, carelessly removing the dressy articles before removing his socks. Then, he made Sehun wait as he removed his own shoes and socks. He enjoyed watching Sehun's chest rise and fall with his labored breathing, biting his lip in an attempt to keep himself from telling him to hurry up. He placed himself above Sehun, resting his hands above his shoulders, his mouth coming in contact with Sehun's. The taste of his own blood caused Sehun to open his mouth, his tongue coming across Jongdae's lips to remove the substance. The kiss was messy, most of it sloppy exchanges of the tongue, but then Jongdae caught Sehun's bottom lip between his teeth, and Sehun froze. He tested the motion out, bouncing his teeeth on it teasingly, loving how Sehun tensed as he did so. As he broke the skin open, Sehun's eyes fluttered closed, his hands once again finding their way into Jongdae's hair to press him closer.

Once their mouths were thoroughly stained with his blood, Sehun's jaws made their way down Jongdae's neck, his hands sliding under his boss's shirt to remove it. As he kissed his muscular chest, Jongdae ground his crotch into the apex of Sehun's thighs, making Sehun's movements uneven. He could feel Sehun's member already straining against his jeans, and he thought,  _It's such a same for a body like his to be hidden under all that clothing_.

He pressed Sehun down, holding his wrists together in one of his hands. The other deftly unbuttoned Sehun's formal shirt, revealing his pale body. Jongdae feasted upon the sight, his eyes soaking up everything they could. He had muscle, but it was faintly indented into his skin, his figure much softer than Jongdae's. Jongdae pressed his mouth against a spot underneath his navel, licking up until he reached his Adam's apple. Sehun swallowed nervously. Was he getting anxious? Maybe regretting his decision? He didn't care.

He didn't want to fully remove his shirt; he wanted some article of clothing left on his body as he fucked him. Instead, he went for the waistline of his jeans, his hands undoing the button underneath the bloodied spot his mouth had left on his tummy. He released Sehun's hands to pull off his pants, but Sehun left them where they were above his head. His eyes had a glossy expression, seeming to accept that this was that he had gotten into. Jongdae had wanted to immediately go back to teasing him, perhaps sucking him off a bit, but then he was distracted because  _thighs, thighs, thighs._

He had marveled at Sehun's thighs clad in jeans and slacks, but that all faded away as he saw them bare. They were perfectly full, muscles eased into an almost feminine shape, but nonetheless sturdy. Jongdae's mouth attached itself to one, moving to the inner area. He sucked, determined to leave bruises, and when he finished with the first one, he decided that one wasn't enough. He moved to the other, ridiculously close to the start of his boxers. As he sucked another hickey into it, he could see the wet area form near the head of Sehun's prick, already leaking with precum. He smirked, crawling back to linger over him, his mouth colliding with Sehun's again.

Sehun had turned into a pliant body beneath him, every touch making him lean up into Jongdae. Jongdae's tongue traced around the wound on Sehun's lip, biting down to make sure it didn't close. Sehun groaned,  his lower body coming up to rub against Jongdae. The older's tongue explored his mouth, making sure every inch was covered with some amount of Sehun's blood, and when he pulled away, a string of saliva and blood hung between them. Sehun lifted up to suck it into his mouth and Jongdae felt something rise in his chest.

His hand slipped into Sehun's underwear, wrapping around the boy's fully-erect shaft. His thumb rubbed around the crown, spreading around the pearl of clear liquid that had seeped out. Sehun twitched below him, his lips opening as he gasped, and then Jongdae began to move his hand, slowly jerking him off. He could feel the muscles in Sehun's abdomen tighten at the feeling, pathetic sounds falling from his mouth. He stuck to teasing though, and before Sehun could get any real enjoyment out of it, he pulled his hand away.

A sound of disappointment came from Sehun's chest, but Jongdae put two of his fingers at his lips.

"Open," he instructed, and Sehun did so, taking them into his mouth.

He understood what Jongdae wanted him to do, and he sucked on them, swirling his tongue around them to make sure they were efficiently lubricated. Jongdae thought about having Sehun blow him for a bit, knowing that from the talent he was bestowing on his fingers that his mouth was made to suck cock, but he didn't have the patience for that.

 _Maybe another time_.

He took the fingers from Sehun's mouth, removing his boxers and leaving him naked save for the open shirt. He pressed the sopping fingers at Sehun's entrance, slowly pressing them into him. Sehun hissed with slight discomfort, but he obviously wasn't inexperienced and quickly adapted, soon begging Jongdae to move them. Jongdae withdrew the fingers gradually, sinking them back in at a faster pace. He scissored them, trying to stretch Sehun to the point where taking his dick wouldn't be entirely painful. As he flexed his wrist, Sehun coiled up, a breathy moan escaping his lips as Jongdae's fingers found his pleasure center.

"Oh,  _fuck_ , Jongdae," he practically sobbed, his lower body starting to grind into his hand for more friction.

"Mm, what? What do you want?" He taunted, his fingers coaxing against his prostate again.

"Ooh!  _Shit!_  Please, fuck me," he begged, writhing on the quilt.

When Jongdae extracted his fingers, Sehun had already sat up, his hands busy unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. He slid them down, taking just enough time to gaze at Jongdae's tanned thighs before he laid back down and was working them the rest of the way down with his feet. Jongdae moved to help him, taking the liberty of stripping himself of his underwear, and fastening Sehun's legs around his firm waist. He took hold of his own pulsating member, testingly pushing it against Sehun's wet hole. Sehun cast a look down, wondering if there was any way in Hell it was all going to fit, when something in Sehun gave, and Jongdae slid in to the hilt.

" _Ah_!" Sehun whined, his eyes clenching shut at the sensation.

Jongdae had never felt anything like this. Sehun's tight, velvet-like walls had engulfed his member completely and he felt like he was in Heaven. He could feel Sehun's walls slowly relaxing around him as he became accustomed to Jongdae, biting down on his lip so hard that even more blood spilt into his mouth. Jongdae pulled out, watching as Sehun's body seemed to not want him to leave, then pushed himself back in. He planned on trying his patience for as long as he could, for Sehun's sake, but when the younger made the softest noise of pleasure, he lost it.

He was hitting Sehun's sensitive spot every time, making him moan in euphoria. Carnal sounds filled their ears, a good balance between his own breathing, Sehun's whines, and the audio of their bodies coming together over and over again. Sehun's body flexed around him every time he hit his prostate, making shots of warm pleasure pool in his knees. 

Sehun was pretty while he was getting fucked. His mouth never closed, and his eyes fluttered nonstop behind his eyelids. His cheeks were flushed pink, his hands digging into Jongdae's abdomen to keep him from stopping. His legs had a death-lock around his waist, his lower body attempting to work against his for more enjoyment. Jongdae hitched his legs up higher, thrusting into him at a deeper angle, and Jongdae thought Sehun was going to scream. His back arched, his had leaning back to where he could only see the outline of his jaw, a long, deep moan echoing from his throat.

Jongdae needed something else for this, and when his fingers carved into Sehun's thighs, he realized what it was. His fingers fastened around Sehun's neck, cutting off his oxygen. He gasped, a rough sound coming from him, but Jongdae kept pounding into him. Sehun's hands latched onto his wrist, and that was how they communicated. When Sehun's grip tightened, Jongdae allowed him to breathe long enough to keep him conscious, but then he cut it off again. By the way he kept mewing, Jongdae could tell Sehun was loving it.

"You like this, don't you?" Jongdae smirked, his fingernails continuing to bite into one of Sehun's thighs. 

He allowed Sehun to breathe enough to retract an answer. "Fuck, _yes_ , Mister Kim, _don't stop_."

The title of authority made Jongdae drive into him with a renewed fervor, making Sehun come undone all over their chests with a high-pitched moan.

"Look at you," Jongdae spat. "Cumming all over yourself untouched. So easy to please."

The contractions from Sehun's orgasm were milking Jongdae's own erection, begging him to cum. The movements in his hips were coming out of rhythm, his body rocking into Sehun's a few more times before he came, coating Sehun's insides with his semen. Sehun groaned as he felt the warm sensation, biting down on his injured lip.

Breathing hard, Jongdae pulled out, reaching for his clothes. Sehun followed, but he didn't get dressed. Instead, he stood off of the quilt, straightening it from the roughness of their escapade. He looked over at Jongdae, who now stood clad in his jeans.

"What do you think?" He asked, still out of breath.

Jongdae glanced up to see what he meant.

The white quilt was stained with different splotches of blood, forming small patterns all around it. They were mainly focused in one area, but then again, once they were into getting each other off, moving around wasn't very high on their priority list.

"It's pretty," he told Sehun, walking over to grab his hand and slide his fingers between his. "What do you call it?"

" _Run_ , considering that's what I should have done from you. Or, at least, that's what you say." He smiled. There was a moment of silence before Sehun spoke again. "Jongdae, you really do kill people, don't you? You meant what you said when you craved the real thing."

"Yeah, Sehun, I do," Jongdae breathed.

Sehun's hand tightened around his. "We all have bad habits, Mister Kim. Some of ours are just illegal."

"You don't mind?" He asked.

Sehun looked at him, his neck red and already forming bruises from his grasp. His lips were still smeared with blood and there were hand prints on his thighs. The blood trail on his stomach leading to his neck had already dried.

"I don't mind."

**Author's Note:**

> It is three AM and I am doing SeChen smut kms


End file.
